He Was Looking at Her Again
by rayon.de.soleil
Summary: Draco can't stop staring at Hermione and she's had enough.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just a D/Hr drivel that I found on my computer. It was meant to have a second part but it took me long enough to finish this. Silly and pointless, I hope you enjoy.

* * *

He was looking at her again. What was this? Was he mocking her? Goading her into some kind of response?

He wasn't going to get it. Certainly not.

Hermione went back to stirring her potion. Three stirs clockwise then add the beetle juice. Merlin her hair was annoying her. She abandoned her potion for a minute to tie it back and as she looked up, she noticed something that caused her hairband to ping right out of her hand. Malfoy was staring at her again. Just standing there, oh-so-casual, cutting up his scarab beetles, staring at her.

That was it. She'd had enough.

She looked down under the pretense of checking her textbook, meanwhile reaching for her wand and with a slight flick…

'Merlin's tits', sounded loudly from across the room. As Hermione turned back to her potion smiling smugly to herself, Malfoy sucked on his finger whilst Slughorn bustled over to check up on him.

'It's nothing sir, nothing,' Malfoy was muttering to the professor. 'Knife slipped.'

Hermione chanced a glance over to his table.

He was glaring at her now.

Well, at least she'd stopped the staring.

***

She was looking at him. Why in the name of Slytherin's pants was the Mudblood looking at him?

She turned her eyes back to her dinner. But when he tried to do the same he found she was far more fascinating than his chicken pie. Common food anyway. Hogwarts was going to the dogs. Had to lower the standards when the Mudbloods joined.

What was wrong with him?

Nothing. It wasn't his fault. It was her.

He'd always known there was something odd about her. Not one wizarding connection to her name and still top of the year. Wasn't possible. That was why he couldn't take his eyes off her. She'd cast some sort of enchantment. Strange girl.

Definitely wasn't her looks. She was common looking; he'd decided that years ago. A plain nose, small mouth, freckles, brown eyes, brown hair the colour of mud. Fitting really. That hair. You'd think she'd do something with it, all those brains she's supposed to have.

But no. That wasn't Granger's style. Frigid as an Alaskan Nogtail her. Honestly, who had she got with in our year? Oh yeah, there was Krum, but Quidditch star or not he was no looker and word was that as soon as his hand went for her skirt, she'd flipped out and slapped him one. And what was with Potter and Weasley? If they'd all been having a good Gryffindor romp surely there would be some gossip. But nothing.

She was on her own now, he reflected. Potter was off somewhere, snooping around following people or visiting Hagrid in his sad little cabin.

Down the table from her, Weasley was being fed his dinner by that Brown girl. Word was that she gave out blow jobs as easily as Snape set detentions. Good luck to them, Malfoy thought.

Then something clicked in his head.

Granger and Weasley. They weren't sitting with each other. And he hadn't seen them talk in a while. And Weasley was sat with the Gryffindor slag. And Granger was… pissed off!

Blimey, Granger was jealous. Of Weasel. That made Malfoy pity her even more. Couldn't even find someone decent to be jealous over. Sad, that was.

She finished her meal, threw her fork down and got up, swinging her bag over her shoulder. She looked over at Malfoy as she turned to leave and he was careful to raise an eyebrow at her as if to say what? She rolled her eyes, glanced back at Weasley and Brown then hurried out.

Malfoy watched her rear, noticing her hips sway, her bag bouncing off her backside, her hair swinging around – well, everywhere - in her boring ponytail.

He looked down at his plate. He'd hardly touched his food.

Merlin's sake, Malfoy.

He ran a hand through his sleek hair, picked up his fork and started to eat.

***

After slipping past Ron and Lavender entwined in an armchair situated annoyingly close to the portrait hole whilst successfully ignoring Harry who was calling after her at the same time as prodding Ron in the arm, Hermione leant against the wall outside of Gryffindor tower breathing deeply. She appreciated Harry's chivalry but she wished he could be a bit more tactful sometimes. She was meant to be doing Prefect rounds with Ron tonight but hadn't even reminded him; unfortunately Harry had tried to do it for her.

It was a lucky escape from the dooms of embarrassment and awkwardness.

She pushed her hair behind one ear and set off to do her rounds, through the seventh, sixth and fifth floors, past the statue of Boris the Bewildered and back up the concealed staircase to Gryffindor tower.

Hermione had just reached the turning in the fifth floor corridor, ready to make her way upstairs to bed and fantasising about warm sheets and her old Rupert the Bear pyjamas, when someone walked straight into her.

She fell backwards, feeling ridiculously feeble and looked up, seeing to her dismay that it was flipping Draco Malfoy, the infamous starer who had knocked her over.

She sat back in the dust, glowering at him, waiting for his insult so she could be on her way.

***

Shit.

He had just knocked over Granger. And now 32 seconds had gone by in which he had not called her a mudblood, hexed her or even - Merlin-curse him - run away.

He looked down at her shiftily, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, wondering what the fuck he was meant to do now.

'Could you just come out and insult my parentage already, Malfoy. Ain't exactly sitting on a pile of feathers here.'

Curse the Mudblood for her usual quick spiel. He had a sharp tongue but she always managed to catch him out.

Suddenly – and he swore he had had no plans of doing this later – his arm swung out and his hand extended towards her.

She looked as if he'd hit her.

'What's that?'

'It's a fucking hippogriff. What do you think it is, Granger?' Curse her, curse her, curse her.

'What?'

He brushed his hand across his forehead. Many people said he took after his father, but at this moment he was thinking more like his mother.

'Don't say what, say pardon.'

'Is a Malfoy teaching me manners?' she replied, her mouth wide open. He felt like telling her to close it. So he did.

'Shut your mouth.' Maybe a little harsh, but at least he was regaining some sense of himself.

'Right. Well, then.' She pushed herself to her feet, brushed the dirt off her backside and tucked her hair behind her ear.

In the light of their wands, he thought he saw something in her rosy cheeks and downcast eyes that he… Merlin. He was really going soft now. Thinking she looked pretty in the dark. Once upon a time - when he had balls - that would have been an insult.

Hermione cleared her throat.

Great. He'd been staring at her again.

'What are you doing out so late, Malfoy? I should really give you detention you know, especially for attacking a Prefect.'

'I didn't attack you, Granger. If you'd been looking where you were going you wouldn't have ended up on the floor,' he muttered furiously at her. 'And I'm a Prefect too. Thought you were supposed to be smart.'

She rolled her eyes. Yep. Definitely wearing the clever trousers tonight Malfoy.

'Well don't let me keep you,' she said, slipping past him. He watched her go, feeling as if this meeting had gone completely wrong. He was used to seeing her with her friends and he wasn't prepared to catch her alone acting quite far from the stereotype of annoying, buck-toothed Granger he'd created in his head.

'Where's the Weasel tonight?' he called at her retreating back.

She froze.

Ah, a nerve. Just what he was looking for.

'He's busy. So I'm doing his rounds for him,' she said quietly, still facing away from him.

An answer. He hadn't been expecting that.

'Busy, right. I've used that one a few times,' he said smirking.

She spun round, annoyance flashing across her face.

'Yes, I'm sure you have, Malfoy. And what excuse did Parkinson give you this evening?'

How dare she?

'How dare you? I wanted to be on my own and she knows how to please me,' he said.

Granger snorted. Disgusting. No wonder Weasley was screwing that other girl who was as plain as her name: Brown.

'Please don't share things like that. Some of us aren't interested in Draco Malfoy's sex life,' she sniffed.

Hold the floo. Granger just said sex.

Hmm. A whole other side of Hermione Granger came to mind. The sordid, wild side. Maybe as the type of girl bent over a desk in the library, wearing just her Gryffindor tie. No, wait. A Slytherin tie. His Slytherin tie. Yes. Huh. Interesting.

'Malfoy,' she was flashing her wand-light in his face. 'If you could stop staring now, that would be great.'

'You what? Why would I stare at you?' he sneered, shaking away the progressively more provocative images of her sprawled on the green sheets of his bed wearing only his Slytherin tie and lecturing him on the finer points of Hogwarts: A History.

'You tell me. You've been doing it all week,' she said, an eyebrow raised and her arms crossed. She was just asking for it now.

'Oh and I suppose you've been checking out the bloke behind me?' he retorted.

She flushed.

'Wh-What?' she stammered. He took a step closer, feeling a little more confidant.

'You heard me. I mean I'm used to girls looking at me. Why wouldn't they?' he gestured to his fine physique and Hermione bit her lip, looking away. 'But when bookworm Granger starts staring too, that's when a guy really knows he's something special.' She was so sure he was making fun of her. But then why was he standing so close?

'I'm sure you hardly need me to know you're something special.' His smirk widened and too late she realised what she had said. Her hand flew to her mouth and she stammered,

'Th-That's not what I-I meant to-,' she backed away, shaking her head.

Draco had remained surprisingly calm through the turn of events. He had never expected Granger to be so obvious. He only wanted to get a rise out of her. Now it seemed he had something much more fun to play with. The only trouble was that he didn't see how the game would end.

'Oh come now Granger. It seems we've finally agreed on something. Why stop there?'

She was losing her mind. No. She had already lost it. What the hell was he doing? Surely there were other ways of embarrassing her than stooping to flirting with her? Or was this the ultimate in teasing her? Making her feel like the dirt on his shoes? Well he knew she had a nifty right-hook. And that had been three years ago. Her hand was much stronger now with all that…. writing she did.

'Look Malfoy I don't know the sick things that go through your head, but you can be sure I will have nothing to do with them.' Higher ground, higher ground, she repeated over and over to herself.

Sick things? Who did she think she was?

Granger-in-his-head was pulling him down on top of her whilst she begged to see his big 'dragon'.

Shit. Yeah OK, maybe slightly sick.

Wait, she was walking away again.

'Hermione!' Shit. 'Granger, wait a minute.'

She turned around again, eyeing him shrewdly.

'What do you want?' she demanded.

'A kiss,' he blurted out before he could even think about what he was saying. He rolled his eyes to himself, wondering where his wonderful suaveness had disappeared to.

'Where?' Hermione asked innocently, trying to stop her hands sweating and her mouth from drying up. The absurdity of the situation seemed to have an adverse calming effect on her.

'Here?' Malfoy asked, an eyebrow raised, slightly confused at her cool demeanor and her odd question.

'And where's 'here'?'

'Er... here,' Malfoy repeated, now staring at her very strangely. He had no idea what she was talking about. Where the fuck else would they kiss? He wouldn't have said no to the library. But he felt he was pushing his luck enough with a kiss from the bookworm in a dingy corridor, never mind acting out his lewd fantasies.

'Very well.' Was it his imagination or did Granger sound a bit disappointed? Did she want to shag over some dusty books too?

She was very close to him now. Their clothing brushed together and he could smell the clean scent of her curly hair. Hermione's eyes were lowered; she didn't dare look up from Malfoy's shirt collar for fear of backing down.

'I thought you'd be more imaginative than that Malfoy,' she mumbled, trying to find invisible creases in his collar.

He frowned, looking down at her. What on earth did she mean? She'd asked where he wanted to be kissed and he'd said here. Where else? The library wasn't even op- oh shit no, he thought. She wouldn't? But she was Granger. Prudish, stuck-up Granger, who didn't even let Quidditch stars feel her up.

She would kiss him somewhere other than his mouth? Who was this girl?

Hermione felt Malfoy stiffen and she glanced up to see a rather comical expression on his face. She would have given a good few galleons for a camera right then.

'Too slow, Ferret,' she whispered, before leaning up and pressing her lips to his.

And as if to prove her wrong, that in fact he could be very, very fast, his hands quickly found their way to her hair and her body was crushed right up against his.

He knew he'd only be getting one chance at this. What was the point in wasting the opportunity? And Granger hadn't placed any time constraints on this...tryst.

He moved his hands to her waist and pushed gently until her back came to rest against the stone wall. Their mouths were fused together, Hermione clinging to Malfoy as if life depended on it. As he pushed her more firmly up against the wall, her hand moved to comb the fine hair at the base of his neck and he groaned into her mouth, slipping his hands under the heavy wool of her school jumper.

Hermione struggled to remain in control. Just one kiss, she tried repeating to herself, but it was far too late for that. With Malfoy's hands everywhere and his mouth pressed insistently to hers she couldn't breathe, never mind concentrate. For once her brain was shutting down and it didn't bother her.

Then all too soon, Malfoy stepped back barely half an inch and the pair were left grasping each other, panting heavily, gradually regaining a sense of who and where they were.

Malfoy's eyes were dark and intense, but he managed to slowly lift his mouth into a smirk. This was all he was able to do however, as the power of speech had presently failed him.

He removed his hands from Hermione, pulling down her jumper and smoothing her hair, as she gaped at him, blinking quickly.

Delaying the moment when he would have to move away from her entirely, he slowly pushed a stray curl behind her ear. She was blushing, he was pleased to note and the tips of her ears were a delicate pink, visible even in the darkness of the corridor.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying with all her strength of mind to retain eye contact. She would not let him win this battle, although his fingers playing with her hair were very distracting.

'Well I-,' she stammered as his smirk grew wider. 'I hope this has cleared things up. Perhaps now you'll stop with the staring and we can get back to normal.'

He almost laughed right in her face. Even after making out with her enemy, she kept up her professional manner.

'Yes, Granger,' Malfoy drawled. 'Business as usual tomorrow.'

She scowled at him, but didn't rise to his teasing. She brushed his hand away, straightened her tie and pushed past him into the draught of the hallway.

'Good. Goodnight, Malfoy,' and she walked off, the darkness swallowing her figure as Malfoy watched her leave.

'"Business as usual"', Malfoy repeated to himself with a snort. Merlin, Granger was funny. Not to mention a good kisser. If only he'd cottoned on sooner, he could have got more than he ever would've bargained for.

But no matter. By no means was this...thing...over. He always did enjoy a good game and Granger had proved herself more than a worthy opponent this evening.

And no he would not be stopping with the staring. Granger would just have to confront him again.

And this time he would have his answer ready. Where, indeed. Yes, it would be on the tip of his tongue.

Or rather hers.

* * *

Review?


	2. Chapter 2

Stalking through Hogwarts' corridors was one of Draco Malfoy's favourite pastimes. Intimidation was the name of his game and strolling about like he owned the place often produced the right effect.

A glare at a group of Hufflepuff first years, a casual wink at that attractive Ravenclaw, allowed Malfoy to uphold his status as Hogwarts' libertine.

Seducing Granger: yet another symbol that he held all the cards. Sure, maybe John Wilmot might not have requested a kiss nor would he have let a girl walk away from him having only taken just that.

But then again, Draco did not have syphilis.

He sniffed, trying to put the encounter out of his mind. It wasn't that he regretted it. Draco rarely gave in to the weakness of regret. He was just entirely unable to think about it without becoming incredibly aroused.

Every time he pictured her gazing up at him, looking as if she would let him ravish her there without a second's thought, he wanted to stride into the library and take her right there in the Transfiguration section.

In fact it was increasingly difficult for him to justify why he didn't just have his wicked way in that corridor. First thought was that she was a Mudblood and he was from the purest of Pureblood families. Even speaking to her was a disgrace to his family.

However, the second thought quickly followed the first. Too quickly in fact. She was too good to be fucked in a school corridor. A girl like Hermione Granger needed soft sheets and a glowing fire.

The third reason his brain had given him, which he preferred to the second but was disturbed by almost as much, was that even if he had deemed it proper, she would never have let him. Granger was obstinate. She could be a flirt, she had shown him that much. But she wasn't a slag. A kiss, she may have permitted, but he doubted she would let anyone take it further than that. And most certainly not by him.

They were opposites. He was cold where she was high-tempered. She stood up for people when he put them down. Yet they were both proud, and cunning too. Last night she had tried her hardest to win their power struggle. But it took a lot to beat Draco Malfoy so he wouldn't pay heed to that. Really, issues of the blood aside, they were rather well paired. Didn't they say opposites attract? They were certainly a match for each other.

He smiled to himself. Granger was interesting. And the fact that her blood was inferior to his only gave him ammunition against her. They really were equals in everything else and therefore it would always be fun to be able to hold something over her head.

An approaching Hufflepuff suddenly turned and ran back down the corridor. Seeing Draco Malfoy walking around with a grin on his face was obviously terrifying. Malfoy's smile widened.

Dwelling on last night's events, a thought came unbidden into his mind. Would she let Weasley take things further? The smile was wiped off his face and a crease formed between his eyes. Malfoy did not like to frown; his mother told him he was getting a line.

To add insult to injury, the Weasel chose that moment to come ambling around the corner with his girlfriend hanging off his arm.

All three of them stopped stock still in the corridor.

Ron Weasley was wearing a look of disgust at having come into such close proximity of Malfoy, whilst a calculating sneer was spreading across Malfoy's features.

Lavender Brown, still clutching Ron's arm was looking between the two boys, her eyes wide as saucers, her mouth hanging open. She was praying to Circe that this would result in some sort of gossip she could relay to Parvati later in the dorms.

'_Weasley_,' Malfoy said, raising an eyebrow and nodding to Ron. 'And _Brown_,' he continued with a dangerous smirk, not looking at Lavender. 'Charming. A romantic stroll through the school corridors.'

'Malfoy, get out of our way,' Ron said, rising to his full height and throwing an arm around Lavender. 'Do you not have anything better to do? Parkinson perhaps? Or on second thought, that's quite a lot worse,' Ron snorted.

Knowing something that Weasley did not was always high on Malfoy's list of aims in life. Kissing Hermione Granger was now the biggest bombshell he could have wished for. He would never tell him outright; he wasn't stupid. But the potential fun of having such a big secret was difficult to ignore.

Malfoy grinned and said,

'Crude, Weasley. Even from you. But, alas, Parkinson and I have parted ways.' Lavender fidgeted, clearly dying to ask why. 'But you're right, there are better things for me to do.' He slipped past them, the Brown girl's eyes were practically hanging out of their sockets.

Taking a few steps down the corridor, he paused and turned to see their retreating backs.

'Incidentally, Weasel,' Malfoy called. 'You wouldn't happen to know where Granger is would you?'

With one last smirk at the dumbstruck look on Weasley's face, Malfoy strolled round the bend in the hallway. Quite apart from feeling pleased he'd managed to rattle a few cages, Malfoy was wondering how Granger would want to thank him for creating a few ripples between the happy couple.

***

The library was very cold.

Hermione tugged her cardigan more tightly around herself as she huddled further down in her seat. She was sat next to the window and the frosty glass was dark, black shapes visible just beyond it. It felt like midnight.

It was only 7 o'clock.

7 o'clock on a Sunday and the library was deserted. Tired students had retreated to the haven of their common rooms to squeeze in a last couple of hours of free time with their friends before the bustle of school life started again.

Hermione was happy with her books, with writing the Herbology essay due in two weeks and happy with her solitude. She was not missing the crackling fire of Gryffindor tower, nor her two insouciant best-friends, nor any kind of human contact.

Yes, happy she was. Lonely she definitely wasn't.

Wasn't Jane Eyre, one of fiction's great heroines, a prolific reader? She hadn't had many friends. Her best friend died and then she was stuck with that blind old man. No, not stuck. It was all very romantic being holed up in a gloomy manor house.

Thing was, Hermione, contrary to popular belief, had never really aspired to be a Jane Eyre or even an Eleanor Dashwood. She was an Emma Bovary at heart. A true romantic.

However, it seemed she was stuck with Ron Weasley and you didn't need a genius to tell you he was no knight on horseback. And it just so happened Hermione was a genius. So she knew it at least ten times over. And the other thing was that he was currently in the act of trying to suck the lips off Lavender Brown.

'_Hmph_,' she sighed, closing her book with a snap. The only romance in her life was a kiss in a corridor with her worst- _no_. She wasn't allowed to think about it. Even on her own in the library like this, when there was no one else around and all she had to do was an essay not due for weeks...

Very well. _But only for five minutes_, she told herself strictly with a little frown and a pout.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second.

When she opened them again, there she was in that corridor with him. He was looming over her, his grey eyes dark and stormy, looking right into her soul. Her breathing was heavy but steady and she took a tiny step backwards. Quick as a flash, she was once more pressed against cold stone, the wool of her jumper snagging on the rough surface. Yet still he did not kiss her. He teased her, his body flush against hers. He lowered his mouth to her lips, breathing in the air escaping them and slowly, sensuously he-

'_Hermione_!'

_Snap_. Her pencil broke in her hand as she looked up.

'Harry.' She stared at him with wide eyes, breathing quickly. 'I didn't see you.'

'Yeah, I know,' he smiled down at her. 'I was calling your name for about five minutes. I thought you'd gone into a coma. What were you thinking about?'

'Essay,' she smiled guiltily, holding up her parchment.

'Typical,' he laughed. 'That's not due for another month right?'

'Two weeks, Harry.' He laughed at her admonishing look.

'Ron's looking for you,' he said taking a seat opposite her.

Hermione turned stony. She looked down at her essay, frowning.

'Oh yes? What does he want?'

'I don't know,' Harry shrugged, now doodling on the corner of her page.

'He didn't say?'

'Obviously not. Won't you even talk to him?'

Hermione sighed.

'I don't know, Harry.' Sometimes she was less angry with Ron than she had believed herself to be. But it was easier to ignore him. To ignore their situation. 'I'm surprised he was even able to take enough time out from _Lavender_ to tell you he was looking for me.' There. Snarky Hermione. That was an easy role to play.

'Well he's taken quite a lot of time out from her actually,' Harry replied, raising his eyebrows. 'As a matter of fact she's been stomping around the common room all evening looking for him.'

Looking for him? Was he looking for Hermione then? What did he have to say if it couldn't go through Harry?

Her thoughts wandered and Harry had to nudge her to bring her back to the present.

'I'll leave you to think about that essay then,' he smiled, getting up from his seat. 'I've still got to finish Snape's for tomorrow.'

'Tomorrow?' she said, distracted. 'But it's so last minute.' She frowned.

'Yeah. See you, Hermione.'

She nodded, her brow still creased in thought. Ron was looking for her? Ron wanted to speak to her? Maybe he wanted to kiss her? Maybe she wanted to kiss Malfoy? No, she had already kissed him. Maybe they should do something else?

Where on earth had that come from?

Oh, yes. Her daydream. Which, by the way had been completely destroyed by Harry's unsolicited message about Ron.

She looked down at her parchment. _Just another five minutes then..._

* * *

A/N: Review? One more chapter I thought maybe...

Also, John Wilmot was the 2nd Earl of Rochester; he wrote lewd poetry. An ideal hero for Draco me thought. Johnny Depp plays him in The Libertine. Check it out. I think the whole films available on youtube atm. Be warned. It contains content of a very unsensitive nature. Not one to watch with your mum.


End file.
